


Fetch and Carry

by dracoqueen22



Series: Seireitei Monogatari [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Seduction, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were certain things that a Captain-Commander just knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fetch and Carry

**Author's Note:**

> Written before the Butterflaizen Arc. Doesn't take into account new material.

As captain-commander, there were a few things that one picked up now and then. Little quirks and skills, bits of knowledge that were quite useful to the running of something as complicated and filled with idiots as the Gotei 13. And Yamamoto was well informed on many such facts, especially concerning his subordinates.

One example was Ichimaru Gin.

When the order from Central 46 came to retrieve Kuchiki Rukia from the living world, Yamamoto was well aware of the fact that it was the third division captain's turn to be sent down. Everything had an order, after all, and each division had to divide amongst themselves such unwanted duties.

Fair was fair.

However, the captain-commander knew better than to send Ichimaru anywhere for any reason on a fetch-and-carry mission. He never really knew what sort of state the item would come back in or what else would be brought back with it. Of course, that wasn't even saying that Ichimaru would retrieve the correct person in the first place, and the old man shuddered to think what he would do if the silver-haired captain randomly brought back some unfortunate soul instead of Kuchiki Rukia. Further, recalling the last time he had sent Ichimaru to retrieve something still sent shivers up the captain-commander's spine; it was that frightening. And he still hadn't been able to eat yakitori again, even a decade later.

Therefore, when the order placed itself on his desk, not only to fetch but also to deal with the human _child_ who had stolen her powers, Yamamoto instantly hesitated. He racked his mind for someone, _anyone_ , else to send who wouldn't raise a fuss. He first considered Aizen Sousuke. But unwilling to take advantage of the man's good nature, especially considering that he knew Sousuke-kun would _offer_ , had him rethinking it. There was always Jyuushiro or Shunsui, but the first was currently ill, and the latter would most likely drink himself into a coma if he went anywhere near the living realm or its vaunted liquor stores.

In the end, and thanks to the careful suggestions of Central 46, Yamamoto settled for sending the sixth division. Kuchiki Byakuya was far too refined, noble, and set on following the rules to even protest a direct order. The fact that he was her older brother was also a plus. Best to leave things to family sometimes, especially when young shinigami weren't aware of their mistakes. Not to mention that Abarai-fukutaichou had some connection to the girl and had been antsy-ready to wander down to the living world.

With that in mind, Yamamoto had sent the order out, reminding himself that next time, _next time_ , Ichimaru would get his due.

Well… so long as he didn't have to rely on the constantly smiling man to retrieve anything.


	2. Can I Keep Him?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizen is usually not surprised bythe things that Gin drags in; but this time, he's not so sure.

Aizen Sousuke, lord and master of Hueco Mundo and eventual god of his own new world, rarely had opportunity to find himself surprised. As vast as his intelligence stretched and his own skills in predicting other people's actions, he didn't think he could have anticipated _this_. Though in all honesty, he probably should have.

Gin had been notedly obvious in displaying his interest in the Kurosaki boy, going so far as to extol on his many _assets_ in the company of the Arrancar, most of whom only pretended to listen. At the time, Aizen had thought it to be presumptuous to label his heir's behavior as _stalkerish._ However, given the current situation, perhaps he had been too hasty in dismissing Gin's attractions as merely simple curiosity.

It wasn't every day that his former vice-captain strolled into his throne room with none other than Kurosaki Ichigo draped across him piggy-back style. The substitute Shinigami was unconscious, a cracked hollow's mask hiding half of his face along with a few spatters of blood, likely from the battle started by Gin in Las Noches. And the look on the silver-haired man's face was nothing short of excited, jubilant, lips stretched into an even wider grin than usual.

"Look what I caught, Aizen-taichou!" Gin exclaimed with glee, coming to a stop in front of the bemused lord of Hueco Mundo. "Can I keep 'im?"

Aizen lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Gin," he chided gently, "you should be more careful what you drag in. You don't know where he's been."

He watched as the other male shifted the position of his precious cargo, moving the hapless Kurosaki boy until he was half-standing on the ground and clutched within his captor's long-armed hold. Gin embraced the boy from behind, practically cuddling him and paying little heed to the fact that the substitute Shinigami's unconscious head was lolling quite amusedly.

If possible, the silver-haired man's smile broadened. "But I promise ta feed and water 'im everyday!" he countered, nuzzling against orange hair. "I'll take good care of him. Even clean up his messes."

Amusement threatened to pour from the evil, or supposedly evil, overlord's tongue. "Now, you know what happened with your last pet, Gin," he reminded his second-in-command. "I still can't eat yakitori."

Gin nodded sagely, fully recalling that incident. "Oh, but this one's not a pet," he purred, running his fingers through the Kurosaki boy's hair. A strange look, which Aizen couldn't identify but certainly was related to the whole _stalker_ point he had made earlier, crossed over the former captain's face.

Still, it was in Aizen Sousuke's best interest to keep his heir happy, and so he acquiesced with a gracious wave of his hand. "Very well. Get him cleaned up and you can keep him."

"Aizen-taichou's so generous!" Gin chirped and stooped slightly, scooping the boy into his arms in a style more suited for newlyweds, Kurosaki's head tucked under his chin.

At the abrupt movement, the boy briefly stirred for the first time. "Shut up, Kon," he mumbled. "Five more damn minutes." He fell silent after emitting an oddly content noise, snuggling closer into Gin's chest, fingers curling into the man's clothes.

The look on the former captain's face at this could have given Kusajishi-fukutaichou's sunny exterior a run for its money. And Gin strode happily from the room, whistling what suspiciously sounded like a wedding tune.

On his throne, Aizen rested his chin on his hand, watching his second-in-command with fond amusement. "Ah, young love," he commented with a wistful sigh.


	3. What the Fox Dragged In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo discovers Stockholm's Syndrome at its greatest.

Ichigo woke slowly, unable to remember the last sixteen years of his existence. That might have seemed like an exaggeration, but due to the pulsing of his skull, he could hardly recall more than his name. And thinking any deeper than that hurt like a bitch.

He made a mental note to _getsuga tenshou_ whichever Espada it was that ran him over.

Peeling his eyes open, he found himself staring at a white ceiling. And he meant _white_. It was practically blinding in its brightness. Blinking, he tipped his head to the side and glanced around the room. Definitely not at home.

The walls around him were the same stark color as the ceiling, though there were pictures tacked up here and there. They looked to be like finger-paintings and were brightly colored, depicting various scenes. A window on the right wall was covered in thick red curtains. There was a door on the far side of the room, closed. And at that distance, he didn't know if it was locked or not. Zangetsu was propped up against a chair near the bed and within arm's reach if he strained.

He couldn't help but wonder just where in hell he was. He couldn't remember what had happened last. It was just this big blank spot in his mind. He recalled trying desperately for something. Looking for someone? Trying to save... someone?

Orange. Fairies. Large and jiggling assets.

…Someone?

Gah, his head hurt.

Ichigo groaned and placed a hand on his forehead as he rose upwards. Swinging his legs over the side of the rather comfortable bed, bare feet settled on a cold floor. His entire body ached with the movement, tugging at wounds beneath his clothing, and he hissed in pain.

Pressing one hand to his side where he could feel bandages beneath cloth, he realized something was off. Ichigo looked down, and his eyes widened. His clothes had been... changed? What the hell? Where was his shihakushou? And why was he all in white?

Scratch that.

Who the fuck changed him while he was unconscious? And sweet kami, now that he was paying attention, where was his underwear?

Something like a blush began to stain his cheeks at the thought of a stranger stripping him down and redressing him. Clearly, he had to get out of here soon. Wherever _here_ was. Which meant that he had to make every effort to get up... As soon as his legs stopped wobbling beneath him.

The sound of humming floated to his ears in a low, masculine tone. Ichigo turned towards the door very slowly, watching as the knob moved, and it literally creaked open. In stepped a white-clothed figure carrying a silver tray covered in dishes, some happy little song that suspiciously sounded like the wedding march being hummed under his breath.

Ichimaru Gin.

Ichimaru Gin was walking into Ichigo's current residence as if there was nothing wrong about it. And the smile on his face seemed to widen as his entire face brightened.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Ichimaru chirped at him like they were long-lost friends and not, you know, mortal enemies. "Yer awake!"

Brown eyes widened impossibly large, and to his mortification, Ichigo flailed. He nearly swallowed his tongue as he scrambled backwards on the bed, at the same time trying to reach for Zangetsu and ending up with this three-legged thumping crawl with one arm waving wildly in the air.

"Ichimaru!" he declared indignantly and angrily and other such words that described a teenager surprised to find himself in the lion's den and _changed_ out of his normal clothes.

But before he could even wrap fingers around Zangetsu, the grinning man was between him and the zanpakutou. And Ichigo was flailing at the white of his clothes. He promptly backpedaled, instantly suspicious.

"Ya mus' be hungry," Ichimaru continued as though Ichigo hadn't said anything, or even reacted really. He thrust the tray in Ichigo's direction, plates and cups rattling. "Here. I had Stark-bo whip it up fer ya. He's great in th' kitchen."

Blinking, Ichigo took the tray without really knowing why. A flavorful scent floated to his nose, causing his stomach to rumble appreciatively. When was the last time he'd eaten?

And yet, his eyes still flickered to his zanpakutou, wanting Zangetsu in his hands rather than over _there_ where he couldn't reach him.

It was all so surreal. And Ichigo had the sudden and almost absurd thought that maybe it was just a really weird dream.

Yeah, that was it. He was at home or at the geta-boushi's, getting his wounds treated by Orihime, and he was suffering from a really bad dream. Ichigo decided to go with that. He picked up the chopsticks. Might as well not starve since it was just a dream and all.

Ichimaru just smiled at him, as if pleased by his decision, and plopped down on the bed next to his new _friend_. Ever-so-subtly inching away from close contact, Ichigo picked at his food. After several moments of uncomfortable silence and the feel of his injuries throbbing, he decided to humor his dream.

"Are you going to kill me?" the teenager demanded, really, really wanting Zangetsu again. He wondered if he could dive for his zanpakutou before Ichimaru managed to skewer him.

"Now why would I do something like tha'?" Ichimaru asked logically. "Aizen-taichou gave ya to me after all. It'd be a shame ter lose my pet."

"Oh… well, that makes sense." He took a bite of perfectly cooked rice and then promptly choked.

Ichigo swiveled his head towards Ichimaru so quickly that he nearly got whiplash. "Wait. Pet?" he demanded and swelled up with indignation. "Like hell!"

Reiatsu began to surge from his body in an angry whirl. And even Shirosaki was just this side of displeased.

Ichimaru bopped him on the nose, causing him to drop his chopsticks in shock. "Behave," he scolded.

And then, he kissed Ichigo. Just like that, no warning whatsoever.

Ichigo thought his eyes were going to pop out of his sockets. He went absolutely still in shock, mouth falling open with surprise. Which Ichimaru took full advantage of. The benefits of being evil, he supposed.

His first thought, however, wasn't anything like he suspected it would be considering his present situation.

Rather than "Shit! I'm being kissed by the enemy, and once more, he's a man!"

It went more like, "Wow, his lips are surprisingly soft for being so thin."

And then, "He tastes like strawberries."

Lastly, he thought, "This really isn't a dream. Is it?"

He didn't even realize he had said the last aloud until Ichimaru chuckled at him.

Those eyes slitted open just enough to give him a glimpse of bright cherry-amber, twinkling with bemusement. "Nope," Ichimaru replied cheerily and then patted him on the head like one would a dog which did something very well. "Now, eat yer dinner. Ya don' wanna get sick," he added rose to his feet with a squeak of bedsprings.

Ichigo was surprised to find his face flushing to the very roots of his hair. He could feel the burning on his cheeks. He stared as Ichimaru puttered around the room and then easily lifted Zangetsu's weight into his hands.

"I'll just take this fer now," he stated casually.

And well, that was all it took to get Ichigo to rise into action. He leapt from the bed with an angry shout, only to promptly feel his knees buckle beneath him as he slumped back down onto the bed. Okay, so maybe he wasn't fully healed at all. In fact, he just felt several of his wounds reopen, and now, his head was spinning fuzzily.

"Ya should probably get some sleep, Ichi-kun," Ichimaru said happily, ignoring Ichigo's rather pathetic attempt at escape. He wrapped those long fingers around the door knob and turned it, preparing to step into the hall. "Don' worry. I'll be back ta play wit ya later!"

And then, he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him with a sound that definitely implied some sort of lock sliding into place.

With a groan, Ichigo threw himself back onto the bed and splayed against the covers. He had the feeling that it was useless to get up and check the door. Or the window. He doubted Ichimaru would make it that simple to escape. And he wouldn't leave Zangetsu behind anyway.

He couldn't believe it.

Trapped. Kidnapped really, if he wanted to look at it that way. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He wished he had taken those kidoh lessons that the geta-boushi had wanted to give him because he was pretty damn helpless without Zangetsu.

And what had Ichimaru meant by "play," and why did his body not seem disinclined towards it?

Ichigo wondered if anyone was going to come save him for once. After all, it seemed he was going to be stuck here for quite some time until someone got off their lazy asses and organized a rescue.

After all, Rukia and Orihime and that snot Ishida all owed him one.


	4. A Not So Subtle Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The seduction begins and for Ichigo, escape is not an option.

Ichigo supposed he should be grateful that they were no longer locking him in Ichimaru's bedroom. Aizen had apparently chastised his subordinate that pets required space to roam and would go stir-crazy if trapped in the same space. Not that outside the room was any more interesting. Just miles and miles of white. White walls. White floors. White clothes on crazy Arrancar. White, white, white.

Ichigo was really starting to hate white.

Oh, wait there went a splash of blood. Red then. Must be all that remained of another one of Nnoitra's victims. He had a seriously bad temper. The only one who seemed immune to Nnoitra's nastiness was Tesla, and he got smacked around just like the others. That guy had a serious case of masochism if one asked Ichigo.

Which no one did. After all, he was a prisoner here. And he was being stalked by his captor. Who, by the way, was Ichimaru Gin.

He really didn't look like a prisoner. At least, on the outside. He wore the same trappings as everyone else. White with a hint of black here and there and a pale blue sash, an outfit that had obviously been designed with his bankai in mind. He supposed it shouldn't have been too hard for someone to emulate it. What with the way he went tearing through everything and diving into bankai in any given situation. But that's beside the point.

He hadn't seen Zangetsu in weeks. But Ichigo was sure his zanpakutou was around here somewhere. He just _knew_ that Ichimaru was hiding him. And he'd yet to cajole, bribe, or convince the ex-captain to return him. Ichigo supposed that making demands and uttering curses at his captor probably wasn't helping the situation.

And his new accessory was no fun at all. Ichigo frowned, lifting up his arm and looking again at the thin, flexible bracelet encircling his wrist. It didn't look like much of anything really. But he knew it was part of the reason Ichigo couldn't just shunpo out of Hueco Mundo. Apparently, his lack of ability to control his reiatsu was not only an escape risk but a problem to the others who resided in Las Noches. Thus the low-grade limiter, courtesy of the fluttery eighth Espada.

Ichigo would like to say that he was really, supremely furious. But that emotion had bled out several weeks ago to a tired sort of resignation. And now, he saved most of his energy for the largest task of hand, not falling prey to Ichimaru's manipulations. His very obvious and distinct seduction.

A scowl twisting his lips, Ichigo turned down a random hallway – he was always getting lost in this damn place. Inevitably, someone was sent to find and fetch him. A task no Arrancar really wanted but did anyway because sometimes they were more afraid of Ichimaru than Aizen and that was just strange.

But then, a hand came out of nowhere, smacking him across the ass. To Ichigo's credit, he managed not to yelp. Only jumping about three feet in the air before whirling to face the perpetrator. He needed just one guess.

"Ichimaru!"

"There ya are, Ichi-kun. I been lookin' everywhere fer ya," the man said, smile dancing on his lips as he folded his hands back into the sleeves of his robes.

Ichigo scowled and backed up against a wall, hiding his backside from Ichimaru's perverted grasp. It wasn't the first time he had been groped out of nowhere, and he doubted it would be the last. Ichimaru had this annoying tendency to pop out of shadows with no warning.

"Why?" he asked, though he had an inkling as to the reason.

Ichimaru crowded in on his personal space, looming over Ichigo with his greater height though his thinness helped detract from his intimidating aura. "Why else? I wanted ta be with ya!"

"Yeah, I sorta got that," Ichigo retorted.

He searched for an escape. But really, there was none. He was as subject to Ichimaru's whims now as he had been for the extent of his... residence here.

"But you know, my family is probably worried, and I really have this schoolwork I have to do..."

His voice trailed off as Ichimaru's grin widened, eyes slitting open to reveal the gleam of his irises beneath. Ichimaru lifted a hand, and it settled on Ichigo's hip, squeezing gently.

"What? Ya don' like it here?" Ichimaru asked. All pretend innocence and hurt, when really his intentions were pretty damn obvious.

Ichigo squirmed, wishing like hell he had Zangetsu and then wondering if it would even do him any good because Ichimaru was ten times stronger than he. It was pretty obvious in the subtle yet controlled thrum of the man's reiatsu, always beneath the surface. The scent of the former captain washed over him, oddly smelling of muffins. Blueberry ones like Yuzu used to make.

Ichigo's brow furrowed at the incongruity of it. "Muffins?" he stated in confusion, rather than the "get the hell away from me" that should have poured from his lips. "Were you making muffins?"

"Just fer ya!" Ichimaru told him all too happily. And leaned in closer, his breath a puff over Ichigo's lips, reminding the teen that Ichimaru always made a habit of kissing him out of nowhere as well.

"Gin, please refrain from molesting your pets in the hallway." The voice trickled through the space between them, prompting Ichigo to sigh in relief and for Ichimaru to draw back a step.

Ichimaru shook his head and pouted at the evil overlord. "He's not a pet, Aizen-taichou!"

Aizen's returning look was allowing and with more than a hint of amusement. "I refuse to call him your concubine."

"He's my wife!" Ichimaru insisted, not removing his hands from their slow creep to the front of Ichigo's gifted white outfit.

And Ichigo squawked. "Wife? I'm not a--"

"You have to be married first, Gin. We've talked about this," Aizen commented patiently, lips quirking into a bemused smile.

Ichimaru practically purred, nuzzling the side of Ichigo's face. "I'm workin' on it. He's bein' stubborn."

The overlord radiated paternal amusement. "Well, work on it somewhere else, Gin. Good Espada are so hard to come by these days, and you're frightening them."

"Okay, Aizen-taichou!" Ichimaru chirped and grabbed Ichigo's hand without further ado, giving him a good yank as he moved down the corridor.

Ichigo could feel Aizen's eyes watching them, dancing with mirth, as he practically surrendered Ichigo to the whims of his lecherous subordinate. That man really was pure evil.

\-------

Ichigo sank down into the heated water with a grateful sigh, one of the few ways he had found to chase away the lingering chill of Las Noches. He didn't know how the others handled it, though he supposed that explained why they wore so many layers. The nights were even worse, though Ichigo had been given a means to combat that entirely without his permission.

Who knew that Ichimaru Gin was like a furnace?

A faint flush stained Ichigo's cheeks. Not that he was particularly proud to have garnered that knowledge. But it was hard to be cold when he spent the night wrapped up in long, thin limbs and cuddled close like a giant stuffed animal.

Ichigo sighed again, dropping down until only his face from the nose up was free from the water. He watched steam rise, silence surrounding him. Bath time was private time, and all the Arrancar had been warned not to step anywhere near when Ichigo was bathing.

Again, who knew that Ichimaru could be so possessive? Not even Stark, the least likely to molest him of the bunch, was allowed in there.

The door clicked open then, and Ichigo turned startled eyes towards it, body poised for flight. Except that a head ringed in silver popped inside, smiling instantly at the sight of him. The urge to flee did not fade, though Ichigo could feel the heat enter his cheeks. If it were possible, he scrunched even further down into the water.

"What happened to privacy?" Ichigo demanded as he shifted until his back was safely against the side of the pool. He felt exposed, despite the cover of steam.

And Ichimaru didn't seem to bothered by the fact that he strolled in wearing nothing more than a small towel around his waist, concealing all the important bits. He really was long and lithe, all lean muscle and pale skin. A few scars stood out brightly, starkly pink against his pallid shade.

"I brought bubble bath!" Ichimaru chirped at him, nonchalantly inviting himself inside and dropping down into the water. "I could scrub yer back fer ya, if ya want!"

"That's okay," Ichigo assured him, water sloshing as he felt his entire face and body heat up, all the way down to the tip of his toes. "I'm... yeah... I'm definitely done now."

He reached for the edge of the pool, ready to pull himself out, despite the soap that likely clung to his body still and his hair that desperately needed washing. He could always come back later. Or better yet, stick his head under a faucet.

"Suit yerself," Ichimaru said with a half-hearted shrug.

Ichigo told himself there definitely wasn't disappointment in the older man's expression. He pulled on a towel and escaped into the hallway, shivering all the while as he made his way back to their shared room. No matter how often he inquired, they wouldn't give him one of his own. Aizen had said something along the lines of pets needing to be looked after by their owners, and after that, Ichigo had stopped asking.

He supposed he should be flattered by the attention. Ichimaru practically lavished him in it and gifts. Rare books. Foods from the living world. Even a Playstation and a hefty assortment of games. Some items from his bedroom at home, though Ichigo didn't know how the traitor had accomplished that. And Ichimaru was a constant presence, talking to him, encouraging him, sparring with some hakudo since they wouldn't give him back his zanpakutou.

Breakfast in bed was a weekly occurrence and more welcome now that Ichigo had convinced Ichimaru not to do so naked. And the occasional moments of being serenaded by recitations of Shakespeare were flattering, especially since Ichigo had proven that Kama Sutra books just couldn't compare to the genius of the bard.

Ichigo was getting used to it all, and maybe that was the biggest problem. He didn't want to be used to it. He should be fighting harder to go back home to where he was supposed to be. He just knew that everyone was insanely worried, probably believing the worst of him. Though they couldn't possibly know the worst he faced was a stolen kiss or grope.

The teen sighed, raking a hand over his wet hair and sending a spray of water across the floor. A passing Arrancar he didn't recognize gave him a look, and Ichigo scowled, setting the woman into a fleeing trot.

Back in their shared room, he scrubbed his towel over his head and threw on some clothes, remembering that he'd left half of them back in the bathing rooms. Well, perhaps it would be safer to return later.

Sighing, he dropped down on the bed, feeling just a bit bored. He contemplated his Playstation, but even that didn't seem appealing to him. He still remembered that faint look of disappointment in Ichimaru's eyes.

Ichigo raked a hand through his hair, trying to dispel his thoughts, when his gaze fell on an envelope on the bedside table. He wouldn't have paid much else attention to it, except that his name was on the front. Considering it his, Ichigo grabbed the item and opened, unfolding the piece of paper kept within. His hands shook as he recognized the familiar penmanship. It was a letter from his sisters, though how Ichimaru had gotten it – because it had to have been Ichimaru – was a mystery to him. The latest in a long line of gifts, Ichigo could only think that this was the best one.

They were worried about him, but they trusted him to be strong enough to take care of himself. Goat-Face was still acting like an idiot, and Chad and Inoue visited nearly every day. Urahara-san was making plans to find him, but otherwise, they wanted him to be strong. To not worry about them, that they would be fine.

"Ichi-kun?"

Ichimaru stepped into the room as Ichigo read the last of the letter, emotions swirling about inside of him in a confusing tangle. He was glad to have received it, though he wondered why Ichimaru would bother. He was just a prisoner, wasn't he?

"Ah, ya got yer letter I see." His usual smile was there, but a hint of caution was in his voice. "Like it?"

Ichigo numbly nodded, carefully folding the paper back up and sliding it into the envelope. He returned it to the small table, one that had been designated as his and his alone. It housed some of his belongings, mostly gifts that Ichimaru had given him during the length of his stay in Las Noches.

"Yeah. I do actually," he replied after a moment. "Thanks. How'd ya do it?'

Ichimaru grinned, plopping down on the bed next to him and dropping his towel from over his silver hair to hang across his shoulders. "I have special powers. Like a ninja. Soifon ain't got nothin' on me."

Ichigo stared at him. "As stupid as that sounds, I think I believe you."

The ex-captain chuckled and leaned over, laying his head against Ichigo's shoulder in a move that should have surprised him but really didn't. Ichimaru smelled clean, like pomegranate and mango, oddly enough. And his hair tickled at the side of Ichigo's neck.

"When are you going to let me go?" Ichigo questioned because it was something he did every night. And even though he'd yet to receive a decent answer, he continued to ask. Besides, it was sorta hard to be violent with a man who acted as cheerful as Ichimaru did.

"We could spar tomorrow," his captor suggested instead, avoiding the query as always. "I might even be convinced ta let ya have Zangetsu back fer a bit, ne?"

Ichigo perked up at the offer, though he recognized it for the peace offering it was. "Alright. Fine," he agreed because it was really boring sometimes and he was dying for something to break the monotony.

He fell back against the bed, bouncing once against the mattress. Just staring at the white, white ceiling. Everything so white. The walls. The floor. Everything.

Ichimaru didn't take his action for the escape it was. Instead following Ichigo down, snuggling against his side.

"Ichigo's so good ta me," he practically purred, sounding too thrilled by the situation.

"Yeah, whatever."

Ichigo snorted. He had already learned there really was no point in fighting. Besides, Ichimaru – stolen kisses and gropes aside – had never pushed for anything further. Which was more than he could say about some of his past admirers. Perhaps he hoped that Ichigo would eventually give in of his own accord one day.

A thin-fingered hand settled on his chin, turning his head to the side, and he was met by slitted red eyes. Ichigo waited, sure that this was another moment where Ichimaru was going to steal a kiss. He did it often enough that Ichigo was no longer fazed by them. He figured if that was all that ever came of it, fine by him since Ichimaru never pressed for anything more.

Except that Ichimaru did nothing but look at him. He didn't even speak. Just stroked his fingers over Ichigo's cheek and stared.

Ichigo squirmed, confused and a bit embarrassed. "Aren't you going to kiss me?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

"Is that an invitation?" Ichimaru returned, breath washing over Ichigo and smelling clean. Like vanilla mint toothpaste.

"No!" Ichigo quickly denied because that was how he really should feel about the situation after all.

He looked away, and in the back of his mind, he thought about the letter. Ichigo thought about the flash of disappointment he had caught from the older man. And he thought about the good treatment he had received all things considered. He was a captive true, but thanks to Ichimaru, he wasn't being eaten alive by all the Espada and Arrancar during his weakened state.

Internally, he sighed.

"One," Ichigo muttered, barely loud enough for the other male to hear. And his eyes slid back to Ichimaru. "Just _one_."

The ex-captain smiled at him, a different sort than the face-splitting grins he usually shone Ichigo's direction. And he leaned forwards, crossing the space between them, bringing their lips together. Slow and soft, a meeting of mouths rather than a stolen gesture. Gentle and testing. Warm.

Ichigo didn't resist. Allowed fingers to stroke briefly over his cheek as the taste of Ichimaru washed over his senses. And just to himself, Ichigo thought that it really wasn't that bad.

Not bad at all.


End file.
